


When We Meet Again

by petofi



Series: Mismatched Who [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Classic Who, Gen, New Who, Sandwiches, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petofi/pseuds/petofi
Summary: The Third Doctor deals with an uninvited guest when Simm!Master shows up afterThe End of Time.





	When We Meet Again

The Doctor had heard the drums. He and the Master had been psychically linked, even just for a moment. The Master could use that to his advantage and get out of the Timelock. At least, he was pretty sure he could. He just had to concentrate.

He landed abruptly, stumbling as a new floor slid under under his feet. Success? For a moment all he could see was the white blinding light of the Timelock and he put out an arm to catch hold of something as he unbalanced. His hand grasped something soft and fabricy. Underneath it was something strong and sturdy. When the light faded, the Master raised his eyes to the Doctor whose sleeve he had caught hold of.

“I say, where the devil have you come from?”

The Master took a quick glance around, noting the shiny lab equipment and the locks on the doors. This wasn’t his Doctor and this wasn’t a Tardis. In fact, he was pretty sure the only Tardis nearby was currently not in working order. Maybe not success then. He let out a little groan and put his head in his hands. Why did this never work out?

The Doctor frowned, looking as ruffled as his light blue shirt. He adjusted his velvety cuffs and scrutinized his new guest. Surprise dawned in his eyes when he realized why this person seemed so familiar.

“Wait a minute, I left you to get stuck in a time loop with the Axons just last week. They didn’t manage to kill you did they?”

“No. That was much longer ago for me,” the Master looked up into the face of a Doctor he had known very well a very long time ago. He wondered if he could wrangle some sympathy out of this incarnation. They did cooperate quite a lot, and very efficiently. The only trouble was that the Doctor was always trying to sabotage the plans and machinery that they agreed to work together on. It got terribly inconvenient and the Master had long ago stopped doing that foolish trusting thing his younger selves had been so keen on. 

The Doctor tilted his head and regarded the Master. This version was younger than he had last been. Still slim and not tall. His fashion sense had suffered, but not from surplus eccentricity. Black jeans, a black hoodie and hair that had definitely been bleached suggested less of a sophisticated evil genius and more of an aging and unemployed university drop-out trying to retain his youth. It’s not that he looked bad in the attire, he just didn’t look like himself. 

“Well,” the Doctor cleared his throat, “May I ask what are you doing here?”

“I was aiming for somewhere else,” the Master replied miserably. He was starting to get hungry. 

The Doctor hmmmed and pursed his lips. “Someone else as well, I would bet. No, perhaps you should not tell me anything. I assume you were attempting to land in a future point of my timestream and it wouldn’t do to allow me any of that knowledge.” 

The Master was only half listening as the Doctor paced thoughtfully. He had spied a sandwich on the table in the corner. It wasn’t a very large sandwich, but he could see a bit of carved ham poking out from between the two slices of white bread. Meat. Fresh and lean, and juicy-

“Fleshy, chewy, meaty meat.” 

The Master’s words had cut the Doctor off mid sentence. The Doctor turned to see the Master flicker, his face suddenly taking on the appearance of a blue skull. The Master lunged, arms outstretched to take hold of the sandwich that much faster. The rest of his body caught up and he hunched over his prize protectively. The speed at which he ate it was a bit disconcerting and the Doctor wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing his lunch disappear like that. 

“This is certainly new,” he muttered. More loudly he addressed the Master who was now licking at his fingers and looking around slightly frantically for more food. “My dear fellow, are you alright?”

“More,” the Master said, jaw working as if he had something to chew. “More more more more more.”

“Right,” the Doctor agreed, sounding as if he had made a decision, but not being entirely sure what it was yet. “I’m sure there’s more sandwiches in the cafeteria. Come on.”

They left the Doctor’s lab and ventured out into the hallways of UNIT. The Doctor reflected that this possibly may not be the best of ideas since the Master was on UNIT’s Most Wanted List. But the Doctor did not usually worry too much about details such as that at any rate. Besides, no one would recognize the Master in his new and strangely flickering body. They just needed to steer clear of anybody who might actually ask for ID. 

“Crunchy, marrowy, hungry” the Master muttered at the young woman who passed them in the hall. His gaze followed her, pinpointed at the pulsing of her slender neck. She glanced back a little uncomfortably and hurried onward. The Doctor cleared his throat, taking the Master’s arm and leading him through the door to UNIT’s small cafeteria. There was a friendly looking girl standing behind the counter, ready to take their order. 

Twenty sandwiches later the Master slowed down and seemed content. The last of the sandwiches was chewed at a far more civilized speed and when he was finished he delicately took the napkin the Doctor held out for him to wipe the crumbs off his hands. The Doctor regarded him thoughtfully.

“You seem to be having some sort of energy crisis.”

“Came back a bit wrong,” the Master admitted.

“Regeneration sickness? I’ve never seen any like this before.”

The Master shook his head. “No, shot first. Then I recorporealized after you burned my body.”

“Why didn’t you just regenerate, man?”

“I wanted to win.”

“Whatever that means,” muttered the Doctor. “Well, I suppose now that you’re here we should see what to do about fixing this.”

They wandered companionably back down the hallway toward the Doctor’s lab. 

“I’ll run a few tests, first,” the Doctor said. “There could be a problem on the molecular level or it may be some sort of anomaly in your timestream that’s causing physical side effects. I’ve told you that your recklessness will get you into trouble, and now look where you are. Trying to resurrect yourself after burning? That’s merely asking for a whole mess of problems.”

“I’ve done it before,” the Master said sulkily. “That’s not the first time you’ve burned me. Luckily on Sarn I had-“

“No, you can stop right there,” the Doctor admonished, holding up a hand to make his point. “I have no need to hear about what I will be doing in my future.”

“Don’t you want to know anything?” The Master wheedled. “I’ve seen so many of your regenerations. You might as well make use of the information I can give you.” 

“I’ll find out when I get there, thank you. Now, here we go,” the Doctor opened the door to his lab and motioned for the Master to precede him in. However, a voice from the hallway interrupted them before either could step inside.

“Oh, Doctor, there you are.” Jo glanced at the Master curiously. 

“Jo, this is-“

“Harry Saxon,” the Master interrupted, holding out his hand and becoming suddenly charming. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Grant.”

“And you, Mr. Saxon,” Jo said pleasantly, but her curiosity remained as they shook hands. “How did you know my name?”

The Master’s winning smile didn’t falter. “The Doctor, of course. He’s told me so much about you. Very impressive.”

To the Doctor’s horror, Jo smiled and blushed, seemingly taken with the Doctor’s new friend. It was some subtle form of mind control, the Doctor suspected. Surely Jo had better taste. Time to break up this little meeting. The sooner the Master was back out in space terrorizing some other planet the better. 

“Harry’s just helping out with some tricky tenth-dimensional calculus,” the Doctor said. “Which we really should get back to.”

He ushered the Master into the lab and turned to Jo. “If you see the Brigadier could you tell him I’ll be busy for the rest of the day, barring any intergalactic emergencies.”

“Of course, Doctor. Is Harry a friend of yours?”

“I’ve known him awhile.”

“I’ll leave you two to catch up then.”

“He won’t be staying long.”

“Oh,” Jo seemed disappointed. The Doctor hurried into the lab to sort out this Master problem before the world got any crazier. 

It took quite a few tests, actually, to figure out what was wrong with the Master. They built a couple of different radiation detectors to scan him with. They x-rayed and gamma-rayed. The Master willingly gave up skin cells, blood, hair follicles, and spit to be analyzed and inspected on an atomic level, but he refused to pee in a cup. It was late at night by the time they found the problem in his DNA. Together they peered at the tiny screen on their homemade molecular reading device. 

“Well, there it is,” the Doctor said matter-of-factly. “When your agents recreated your body they should have been more careful. You’ve got some sort of impurity running through your DNA and causing an instability.”

“This is why I hate relying on people, especially humans!” the Master slapped his hand on the table in exasperation. “They always mess things up. If my Master Race had worked out, this would never again be a problem. Isn’t there an Earth saying, ‘if you want something done right, you do it yourself.’ Well, there would only have been me.”

“I think we can fix it,” the Doctor interrupted before the Master went on a full blown tirade. “We’ll just have to remove the impurity. You don’t happen to have an Atomic Extractor with you, do you?

The Master snapped his fingers sarcastically. “I knew I forgot to pack something.” 

“There may be one in one of the Tardis closets,” the Doctor muttered distractedly. “If I remember correctly, it’s in the third guest bedroom.” 

The Doctor paused and scrutinized his temporary colleague. The Master sat at the shiny lab table, surrounded by bits of wire and components they had torn from UNIT’s machinery to build their own devices. He looked relatively harmless. But then, that’s what most people thought, until that split second before he killed them. The Doctor calculated how long he would be out of the room in comparison to how long it would take the Master to construct some sort of evil world destroying machine with the lab’s resources. He was fairly certain that he would return in time to stop any dastardly plans, should any dastardly plans need to be stopped.

“I’ve got the only key to this lab,” the Doctor said seriously. The Master regarded him with disinterest. “I’ll return soon, but I’m locking you in.”

“Like that would stop me,” the Master yawned.

“It’ll at least slow you down,” the Doctor replied as he opened the door and stepped out.

“Bring more sandwiches!” the Master called out as the door shut. He heard the key turn in the lock and hoped that the Doctor had heard him. It was far past dinnertime. He glanced around the lab, but unfortunately this was before the era of the mini-fridge and he had already eaten the Doctor’s lunchmeat. 

“Hungry, hungry,” the Master muttered to himself. He cleared a space on the table and put his head down, not feeling like trying to take over the world with miscellaneous spare parts today. And also he was a bit tired after having slept in a construction yard for a few nights. It was much easier to just wait for the Doctor to get back and cure him. He was pretty certain the Doctor was going to cure him and not sabotage him yet again. The science involved in this problem was too interesting. Otherwise the Master was sure he would already be in UNIT custody. He rested his head on his outstretched arm and let the nostalgia wash over him. It had been quite a lovely day of collaborative science. 

“Ah, still here,” the Doctor said as he stepped back in. He dumped two sandwiches on the table. “That’s all there were left. Most of the staff have gone home by now.”

As the Master ate, the Doctor set up the Atomic Extractor. It was quite simple, really, and the Master didn’t notice he was cured until he was half way finished with the second sandwich. He stopped mid-bite, sandwich in his open mouth and his teeth just ready to tear into the soft bread. He blinked and slowly pulled the sandwich away from his mouth. Then he held it out to the Doctor.

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

The Doctor eyed the bite marks before taking the sandwich with a cavalier, “Don’t mind if I do.”

The Doctor didn’t eat as fast and took time between bites to discuss how well the Atomic Extractor had worked and do some tests to see if the Master was undoubtedly cured. When they both agreed that he was, it was time to move on to the next problem. The Doctor looked at the Master thoughtfully.

“From your unconventional entrance into this time stream I gather that you are traveling without a Tardis at the moment. How you’ve managed that I can’t imagine.”

“My last couple of lives have been eventful,” the Master slumped tiredly in his chair and decided not to think about the past couple of decades. 

“Well, you certainly can’t stay here, and I’m not letting you near my Tardis.”

“Actually, I’ve got a better plan,” the Master said as he sat up straighter. He cleared a space on the desk and glanced around. “I need to write a letter.”

Once furnished with the necessary writing tools, the Master set to work looking very pleased with himself. The Doctor watched over his shoulder, answering questions such as ‘what is the date,’ ‘what time is it,’ and ‘what are the exact longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates of the lab.’ Date, time and location were precisely marked down, followed by a short string of words that seemed to be some kind of shorthand or code. The Master wrote the letter in Gallifreyan with his usual flourishing swirls, but addressed the envelope in English. 

“Why are you writing a letter to 10 Downing St. and who the devil is Harry Saxon?” The Doctor asked distrustfully.

“Make sure UNIT delivers this letter after the 2006 election,” the Master instructed as he handed the letter over. The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

“Look, you want me gone, yes? Well, this is the best way to accomplish that,” the Master said. “Just say you’ll have UNIT deliver that.” 

“Fine,” the Doctor complied and took the letter. The moment he touched the envelope the wheezing sound of the Doctor’s Tardis filled the room and a blue police box appeared in the corner. Whoever the Doctor was expecting to step out of the box, it was not a brown haired, clean shaven version of the Timelord currently sitting at his table. 

The Doctor opened his mouth in horror. “What the devil, man! Do you want the universe to implode!” 

“It’s fine,” the brown haired Master said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got the paradox machine already set up.”

“Well, this is my ride,” the blond Master said with a grin. He stood and made his way to the Tardis. His counter-part inspected him dubiously, but refrained from saying anything. Contrary to his jokes about the matter, he knew it was never a good idea to know too much about one’s future, even with a paradox machine. 

The Doctor sighed as the two Masters stood in the Tardis doorway, each with a little smile as they wished him farewell.

“Goodbye, Doctor,” the blond Master waved, “It’s been fun.”

“It will be fun,” the brown haired Master said. The other nodded in agreement.

“Just get out of my sight,” the Doctor said without rancor, “I’ll be seeing you soon enough anyway, I’m sure.”

The Masters grinned and closed the door. A moment later the Tardis wheezed out of the lab and to some destination unknown.


End file.
